One Piece Summoning System

A soft chime broke the quiet, the doorbell's gentle echo rippling through the room. The door swung open, and her breath hitched, a sharp gasp catching in her throat.

There stood Lily, her lifelong friend, but not as she'd ever seen her. Gone was the polished, confident woman who always carried herself with grace. In her place was someone fragile, almost unrecognizable, clad in an oversized T-shirt that dwarfed her frame, its unfamiliar fabric whispering secrets.

"Lily, what are you doing here?" Her voice trembled with shock, her wide eyes scanning her friend's face. She stepped forward, hands instinctively grasping Lily's shoulders, giving them a gentle shake. "Don't tell me that bastard—" The words burned with a fury that had simmered for years.

She'd always despised Lily's husband, a vile man whose cruelty seemed to know no bounds. Had he done this? Had he hurt her again?

"It's not what you think," Lily murmured, her voice soft but steady, a quiet anchor in the storm of her friend's anger. Her words carried a calm that dulled the edge of rage, though questions still churned beneath the surface.

"Then… how?" Her gaze swept over Lily, piecing together the clues. Faint bruises shadowed the delicate curve of her neck, barely visible but impossible to ignore.

The oversized T-shirt—expensive, unfamiliar, clearly not hers—hung loosely, a stark contrast to Lily's usual tailored elegance. She looked vulnerable, stripped of her usual armor, and a cold dread coiled in her friend's chest.

Lily was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that drew eyes and danger alike. Had someone taken advantage of her? The thought was a knife, twisting deeper with every second.

Before her mind could spiral further, Lily reached out, pressing a gentle hand over her mouth. "It's not what you think," she repeated, her voice softer now, tinged with a shy urgency that begged for trust. "I made the choice. I'll explain later, but right now, I need to bring him his coffee." She withdrew her hand, offering a small, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Her friend's expression softened, a mischievous grin breaking through the tension. "Oh, so you're finally done with that trash, huh?" She leaned closer, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "And judging by that glow, this new guy's treating you right, isn't he?" With a teasing smack to Lily's backside, she turned to leave, tossing over her shoulder, "You'd better spill every detail later!"

Lily's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her hand instinctively rubbing the sting. "Too damn hard," she muttered, half-annoyed, half-amused, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. Her friend's antics were familiar, but today, with her body still tender from the intensity of the night before, the playful swat carried a sharper edge.

Shaking her head, she pushed the cart into the room, the oversized T-shirt swaying around her thighs, shielding her vulnerability from prying eyes.

On the balcony, Arthur sat in quiet contemplation, his silhouette framed against the soft glow of morning light. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but his gaze was distant, lost in thoughts that seemed to weigh heavily.

"Your coffee," Lily said softly, setting the cup beside him with care, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thanks," he murmured, still adrift in his thoughts as he reached for the cup, his fingers brushing the handle absently.

"What are you thinking about?" Lily asked, unable to quell her curiosity. There was something about him—something safe, something magnetic—that drew her in despite herself.

He turned to her, his eyes softening, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Come here," he said, extending a hand, his voice low and inviting.

She hesitated, then stepped closer. His hands found her waist, strong yet gentle, and with a tender pull, he guided her onto his lap. Her heart stuttered, a warning flashing in her mind: No, Lily, don't fall in love. He was only the second man she'd ever been with WILLINGLY , the first being her husband—a man who'd turned her life into a prison. She'd given herself to Arthur last night, not out of love, but as a desperate bid for freedom, a way to escape the chains of her husband's cruelty. Yet sitting here, enveloped in Arthur's warmth, she felt something dangerous stirring.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice a quiet rumble as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The words were simple, but they landed like a spark, igniting something deep within her.

"Don't say that," she whispered, nestling closer, her cheek resting against his chest. "I might fall for you." The words slipped out, half a confession, half a plea, as she breathed in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It feels so good. Too good.

"I can help you, you know," he said, his tone shifting, more serious now.

She tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I heard what your friend said." His voice was gentle but firm, laced with a quiet resolve. "I can help you get away from him."

Her breath caught, and her fingers tightened on his shirt, gripping him as if he might vanish. "He's… he's a monster," she said, her voice breaking. "He beat me. Over and over." Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unstoppable, as the memories she'd buried came rushing back.

"I tried to escape once. I even learned navigation, studied charts, planned every step to get away. But his men found me. They dragged me back, and he…" Her voice faltered, a sob choking her words.

"He beat me so badly I could barely stand. And then he… he forced me to sleep with other men, to win their favor for his deals." She trembled, the weight of her shame and pain spilling out. "I used one of those men, manipulated him to get some freedom, just a sliver of it. But it's never enough."

The tears she'd held back for so long broke free, and she collapsed against him, weeping into his chest. Her body shook with the force of her grief, each sob a release of the anguish she'd carried alone.

Arthur's arms tightened around her, his embrace steady and protective, as if he could shield her from the past. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not alone anymore. I'll help you. I promise."

She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt, and for the first time in years, she felt a flicker of hope—a fragile, trembling thing, but real. In his arms, she wasn't just a survivor of her husband's cruelty. She was Lily, seen and held, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start healing.

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